What is left

July 13, 2015
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For all the sins I've been collecting,
For all the weight I should be carrying,
For all the dreams I've been neglecting,
For that I also have done a lot,
I ran from scars I should be wearing;

By the time of now all I should have felt,
All the fears made me ignore my dreams,
All the things with which I should have dealt,
Made me just a complexed castaway;

All the consequences for my actions,
Escaped my grasp, reached out of my understanding,
Left my voice in mournful refractions,
Left my voice flavlessly, amenably bending;

For all those sins I have committed,
Now I have no heritage left,
Not remorse or sense of guilt to be admitted,
I was liberated from that weight, it was an uncommon theft;

Filled with nothing I cease to defy,
I am left on my own bare existance,
Without my misdeeds there is no sense to try
No more, not even a regretful resistance.

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AvengeMyBrokenSong said...
Jul. 20, 2015 at 5:00 pm
This is the story of my life in a poem. You should check out some of my pieces sometime- we are literally the same writer.
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